Chapter 267: No Quarter Given

"Father York, could you pick up these items on your way back?"

Irene's voice came through the car's speaker system.

York recalled the children's playthings and decorations for the evening's event that Irene wanted to purchase and laughed.

"Of course, I can. Don't worry, Irene, I'll be back on time."

Irene didn't know what he and John Wick were up to, thinking they were just busy with other matters in town.

But clearly, his words greatly relieved her.

"Okay, Father, I'll wait for you at the church."

York hung up the phone, feeling a bit helpless.

He wondered what those old believers had been telling Irene, always worrying about his punctuality.

Was he the type to be late?

"..."

Thinking this, York glanced at his phone, expecting that enough time had passed.

The phone had been silent, likely indicating no supernatural forces were at play.

If there were no supernatural forces involved, John Wick's capabilities should be sufficient in the mundane world.

As York was thinking this.

He immediately felt his phone vibrate, followed by the ringing.

"It's over."

York looked at the caller ID and answered the phone.

"John, got it?"

"Father, the sculpture hand isn't with that kid."

John Wick's voice was very steady.

York raised an eyebrow at this statement.

"So?"

This turn of events was somewhat surprising, but it was within his expectations.

After all, he had long suspected that the sculpture hand couldn't possibly be in possession of a group of free-spirited youths.

"The sculpture hand is now with another person. I got his address from that kid..."

John Wick spoke deliberately, pausing only when he finished stating the address, then waited silently for a response.

He was ready to continue the search, but since Father York's task was technically complete, this was now a new mission, depending on Father York's decision.

Mainly because he was somewhat unfamiliar with dealing with supernatural events.

The next second, John Wick heard the response from the phone.

"Wait for me."

"Okay, Father."

After hearing John Wick's reply, York ended the call and steered the car towards John Wick's location.

When undertaking any task, there are only two outcomes: success or failure.

So, he had already mentally prepared himself.

Since the sculpture hand wasn't with the host, the next step was to continue the investigation.

Fortunately, this trip wasn't in vain.

He had helped Haley with something that was easily within his capabilities, and through Haley, he had informed her mother, Mrs. Julia, of his involvement.

This would likely deepen Mrs. Julia's faith, ensuring the Pluto Church would receive more donations in the future.

Money isn't everything, but without it, nothing can be done.

The church's regular activities, such as worship services, masses, or breakfast events, all cost money.

Although these were donated by the believers, the church's regular expenses, including candles, John Wick, and Robert's salaries, weren't insignificant.

Besides, he would also acquire the soul-summoning sculpture hand.

In his view, the sculpture hand was likely a nexus between the world of the living and the realm of spirits.

Functioning as a spatial gateway or rift.

Such dangerous items must be controlled.

However, pursuing this further could even reveal a third reason for this trip not being in vain.

That is, he was already in town, which he would have had to visit anyway due to the Halloween event tonight.

Before long, armed with these three reasons for the trip being worthwhile, York quickly arrived at the address John Wick had given.

Surprisingly, the location was a rather dirty and disorderly area.

Likely a slum inhabited by various gangs.

There were few cars on the road.

The streets were filled with gang members, with hardly any pedestrians in sight.

The gangs were predominantly African American, with groups of three or four young men forming cliques, smoking and appearing quite carefree.

York noticed some individuals openly carrying handguns in their waistbands, their demeanor unabashedly bold.

Perhaps it was his gaze or his car that drew attention.

As he drove past a group of four or five people, York noticed their unfriendly looks towards his car.

Given what he had seen and heard on this journey, it was no wonder there were few pedestrians, and those present hurried along.

Some shops on the street had closed, hanging up closed signs, as the area's security probably didn't attract much business except at specific times.

"Could the sculpture hand be in a den of thieves?"

York smirked, ignoring the obviously gang-affiliated youths and their hostile glances, and continued deeper into the area.

Finally, at a crossroads, York spotted John Wick's car.

John Wick had already gotten out of his car.

So, by the time York parked, John Wick had approached him.

What caught York's eye was John Wick's full gear.

Dressed in a sleek black suit, he was armed with a shotgun in one hand and a SIG Sauer MPX carbine in the other, his tall stature making him look particularly formidable.

"Father," John Wick nodded, offering a SIG Sauer MPX carbine.

"John, no need."

York shook his head to refuse, stepping out of the car and fully opening his spatial map.

With his current strength and control over elemental magic, he no longer needed such technological aids.

The accumulation of power allowed him to fight in the most convenient way possible.

Without needing to expend much magic, just using the magical elements at hand could cause significant harm to an ordinary person.

"Got everything clear?"

Given John Wick's character, York believed this "killer god" must have already scoped out the destination and gathered all necessary information before his arrival.

"That building."

John Wick silently retracted the SIG Sauer MPX carbine, pointing to a four-story building on the left side of the crossroads.

"The man's name is Michael Sylvester, leader of the Viper Gang."

York was momentarily taken aback, this was somewhat unexpected. Was it really a gang hideout?

"That kid wasn't a student? How did he end up associating with a gang leader?"

York instinctively frowned.

"I saw the target has a drug habit, so it's likely a buyer-seller relationship."

John Wick implied.

Despite this, York understood the connection between the two.

"Alright then."

York conceded, not even surprised.

The land of the free, the United States of America, wasn't just a saying; it was a reality. The reality of...

Drug highs everywhere, had he not seen enough?

Even during the days when Old Brown was still alive, the streets were full of them.

"Let's get going then."

York looked towards the building, starting to walk slowly.

On the other side, the building's ground floor was also crowded with young fellows, clearly no good.

John Wick silently followed.

The two appeared at the corner together and headed towards the building.

The youths gathered below turned their heads in unison to look their way.

Through the spatial map, York glanced up at a room on the third floor of the four-story building, overlooking the voluptuous women and the smoking underlings, as if he could see the target Michael sitting on a couch.

Because he could sense an aura different from ordinary people on this man.

"He's on the third floor, John."

Simultaneously, York continued.

"No quarter given; they're all scum, don't

 hold back. Holding back would be irresponsible to your own life."

As his words fell.

John Wick raised the SIG Sauer MPX carbine, aiming at the underlings who, taken aback, were reaching for their guns, and pulled the trigger.

Clean and efficient.

Instantly, gunfire erupted.

Ratatatata! The sound rang out, sweeping away five or six men who first drew their pistols.

His precise marksmanship was like bringing a gun to a knife fight.

York remained calm, leading the way in front, while John Wick followed behind, continuously firing.

The two walked as if strolling through a park, officially entering the building.

Clearly, the gunfire had already alerted the people inside.

Without needing the spatial map, York could hear the commotion inside.

He could even sense the movements through these noises.

John Wick was also capable of this level of perception, where a few gunshots equaled a life taken.

In no time, the underlings downstairs were all cleaned up by John Wick alone.

Here, York finally witnessed the killer god's marksmanship.

No matter who drew their gun first, the "bodyguard" behind him could always shoot first and eliminate the enemy in time.

Whether to the left, right, front, or back, it was always the case.

Until a metal door appeared in front of them, no gang underling inside the building had managed to fire a single shot.

"This disparity in combat quality between a top-tier assassin and these thugs is exaggerated; it's like heaven and earth. In the movies, John didn't have such an overwhelming presence."

York shook his head, looking at the metal door in front of him. Before John Wick could suggest using the shotgun with steel core armor-piercing shells to breach the door, York directly manipulated the magic elements of fire + fire in the void to combine in front of the metal door.

A fireball spell, bolstered by 0.1 magic power, exploded in front of the door.

The door, as if struck by an unstoppable force, blasted inward with a boom!

The door instantly crushed five underlings guarding behind it.

Blood and unknown pieces of flesh sprayed everywhere, turning the interior into a bloody tableau.

This scene made John Wick lick his dry lips unconsciously.

Such inhuman power was beyond his comprehension.

Clearly, the Father had done nothing but walk.

"John, three people on the right," York reminded.

John Wick immediately snapped to attention, stepping forward as York entered, aiming the carbine down the right corridor.

His gaze stopped, and indeed, as the Father had said, three men were guarding the right side.

They clearly didn't expect someone to suddenly rush in.

"Fire!!!"

"Fire..."

The voices of the three men were drowned out by gunfire.

John Wick took the initiative, emptying the remaining bullets from the carbine.

Ratatatata!!!

York walked in to see the three men guarding the right side bloodied and dead on the spot.

Then, he continued leading the way with an expressionless face, feeling quite satisfied inside.

York found that he only needed to occasionally intervene, and mostly just walk, without needing to do much else.

Of course, he could act, but he also wanted John Wick to feel involved and contribute, since no one should come for nothing.

Additionally, this would strengthen John Wick's sense of belonging and prevent self-doubt.

"Who is it?!"

"Who's attacking us?"

The upstairs had already descended into a state of panic.

Sitting on the couch, leisurely with women on either side, Michael's expression turned extremely grave.

He had entered the surveillance room upon hearing the gunfire.

As the Viper Gang's headquarters, the building was naturally equipped with cameras linked directly to his room.

What made him grave was that if it were a rival gang or enemy faction attacking, he could remain calm, as they would be equally matched, likely resulting in mutual destruction.

But the appearance of two unfamiliar men in the video made this seasoned boss feel a chill in his heart.

Not to mention the priest walking leisurely in front, just the man in a suit behind him, with his precise marksmanship, was enough to suppress his underlings with just a pistol in his right hand and a shotgun in his left.

"Damn it! Who are these two?"

Watching the strange duo start to breach the second floor, Michael's forehead was covered in sweat.

As the boss, he could clearly see their strength, but he truly didn't know how he had offended these two.

"Fuck!"

Gunfire roared, watching the man in the suit continuously shoot, killing one underling after another on the screen, Michael felt the urge to flee.

"I can't stay here!"

He decisively left his spot, ordering the underlings in the room to pack up.

"Go! Take these! And those, take everything!"

Michael ignored the screaming women startled by the gunfire, loudly directing his underlings to gather the necessary items.

The room was in chaos.

He then looked at a sculpture hand on a display stand, grabbed it directly, and prepared to leave the room with six underlings carrying the essentials, planning to escape via a prearranged route.

However, just as he was about to step out, Michael suddenly felt an increasing resistance, as if the surrounding air was solidifying.

At that moment, he widened his eyes, immobilized in place by some force, unable to move, all his strength useless against this eerie power.

"What's happening?"

"I can't move!"

"I can't move!"

"..."

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